


by any other name

by somehowunbroken



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Trade, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21689920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Mo's glad he can lend a hand when Kerf gets traded to the Leafs. He can, he realises, be a little slow on the uptake.
Relationships: Alexander Kerfoot/Morgan Rielly
Comments: 50
Kudos: 242





	by any other name

**Author's Note:**

> as soon as i stopped crying after the trade, i knew i wanted to write something like this. the leaf to leaf videos finally made me break and do it.

Mo doesn't check his phone before he answers it; he's got Leafs people programmed to one ringtone, family to another, and everyone else to a third one. There's a fourth ringtone that goes off when someone not in his contacts calls, which Gards has nicknamed the Ignore Ringtone. Mitchy thinks the whole system is ridiculously overcomplicated, but when Mo's phone starts ringing on Canada Day and it's ringtone three, he knows it's safe to answer and not team- or family-related, which is actually a lot of information to get from the first two seconds of _Sweet Emotion._

"Hey, happy Canada Day," he says, leaning back and looking out over the lake.

"Hey," the other person says. "Uh. So is Marner as much of an excited puppy dog as he looks, or does he do the whole thing for show? I need to know what kind of energy I'm going to have to put up with."

Mo's eyebrows shoot up. "Kerf?"

"You have a caller ID, Morgan," Kerf answers. "You have the worst photo of me from grade five as my contact photo. You refuse to change it no matter how often I ask."

"Uh, yeah," Mo says, pulling his phone away from his face and glancing at it, as if the photo will still be there instead of _Kerf - Shortest One_ and the standard iPhone call screen. "Why are you asking me about Mitchy? Tell me we didn't trade him to the Avs, holy shit. Matty's gonna be wrecked."

Kerf's laugh is unsteady, the kind of thing Mo might not notice, except he's known Kerf for almost their entire lives. "He didn't."

"Then," Mo says slowly. He's glad he's already sitting. "Holy—you? To the Leafs?"

"Me and Barrie," Kerf confirms. "For Kadri and Rosen."

Mo lets out a quick, sharp breath. "Wow."

"Happy Canada Day," Kerf says, giving him that same shaky laugh again.

"Shit, man," Mo says. He's not going to be captain; JT is, he's sure of it, but that doesn't mean Mo isn't part of the leadership group of the team, and it sure as hell doesn't mean he doesn't want to help a friend who needs him. "Welcome to the Leafs. Mitchy really is like that, and it can be a lot in person, but I swear it's in a fun way."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Kerf mutters, and Mo can almost hear him rolling his eyes. "I'm… shit. Wow. Goddamn, I didn't see this coming."

"I'm sorry," Mo says, and he is, too. "Do you—where are you? I can come over, chill for a while."

"Nah, I'm out at the lake with my family," Kerf says. "I just… the news hasn't broken yet, although it should soon. I need to, like. Call JT and Josty, talk to Barrie. Figure out what to do next."

Mo nods even though Kerf can't see him. "Okay. That makes sense. If there's anything I can do, man, just say the word. You know I'll drop whatever I'm doing."

"Just don't drop it on your feet," Kerf says, and if he's able to tease, then he's feeling better. Mo smiles. "You need those to play, which is something I care about now, since you're gonna be defending while I'm out there."

"Oh, god, tell me you're less of a defensive liability than you were when we were kids," Mo groans as theatrically as he can.

Kerf laughs. "I guess you'll find out," he says, voice light, and Mo's pretty sure he's smiling as they hang up.

-0-

"So, uh," Kerf says. He's standing in Mo's living room, hands shoved into his pockets, and Mo can't remember the last time he'd seen someone look quite that awkward. "I guess I need a place to live. In Toronto."

"Okay, well," Mo says, nodding. "Two options. One, we fly out there and I help you find a place. I know where the good delivery places will go, so I'm your best bet there." He waits for Kerf's face to crinkle into a familiar smile before he goes on. "Two, I've got a spare room, and you can stay with me."

Kerf blinks at him. "What, really?"

Mo shrugs. "You're used to roommates. I lived with Gards for a few years before he moved out and got married. I think it'd work, unless you want your own space." If he's ignoring the Gards-shaped hole in his life, well, that's between him and the Gards-shaped hole.

"I mean, I don't really want to be on my own in a new city right away," Kerf says, and Mo can hear the relief in his voice. "If you really don't mind, man, then I'd love to just rent out your spare room."

"You're not renting shit," Mo says firmly. "I bought it, I own it, I decide rental rates. You get a free pass."

Kerf laughs, and it sounds genuine. "You're something else, Morgan. I'm pitching in for groceries, at least."

"Well, yeah," Mo says, grinning at him. "I can house you, but feeding two hockey players? No way can I afford that."

Kerf laughs again, the one that mkaes his whole torso shake, and Mo tries really, really hard not to feel too accomplished when Kerf finally takes his hands out of his pockets to brace himself against the counter as he keeps on laughing.

-0-

"Okay, so, Toronto," Mo says. They've been in the city for about four hours; Mo's almost all the way unpacked, and he's willing to bet Kerf is, too. "First rule is, assume everyone you see knows exactly who you are."

Kerf rolls his eyes. "I'm not you," he says. "Or Matthews, or Marner, or—"

"You're a Leaf," Mo cuts in. "I know you could go grocery shopping and not run into a single person who knew who you were in Denver—"

"Boulder," Kerf corrects. "I didn't live in Denver."

"Okay, well, maybe it would've been different in Denver," Mo says as diplomatically as he can, because there's no way Denver is anything like Toronto and its media and its fanbase. "But here? You were just involved in the trade that sent a guy the fans loved across the continent. People will know who you are. Most of them won't be assholes about it, but trust me, they know."

Kerf nods slowly. "Gotcha," he says. "So if that's rule one, what's rule two?"

"No shoes on the sofa," Mo says immediately, and Kerf laughs, throwing his head back with the force of it.

Mo doesn't want to acknowledge that he's paying attention to the fact that Kerf's laughter has been coming more and more easily in the past few weeks, but, well.

-0-

Mo has to stop short at the end of the hallway, because—

"Hey," Kerf says, smiling at him from the sofa. He's sitting with his feet drawn up in front of him, wearing sweatpants and an Avs tee that's clearly not his if the _37_ over his heart is anything to go by. There's a mug of what Mo knows without having to ask is some kind of tea, probably minty. His eyes crinkle around the edges, and his hair is a little tousled, and—

"Hi," Mo says, because he's staring, and he's probably obvious, and Kerf probably already knows about this thing in Mo's chest that he's only now just starting to realise is there.

Kerf gestures at the other end of the sofa. "I'm not taking up the whole thing, I promise."

"Right, uh," Mo says. He feels like he's stumbling over his own feet as he walks to the sofa and drops gracelessly to the cushion. When he glances over, Kerf's smile is evident even with the mug held in front of his face. "What's up?"

Kerf's smile dims and he glances away, out the window. It was a nice day in Toronto, and it's the kind of brisk night that's not quite cold enough to be fall yet, but definitely isn't still summer. "Thinking," he finally says.

"Thinking," Mo echoes. "Stop doing that. Nothing good ever comes out of that."

"You should give it a try sometime," Kerf says, glancing back at Mo and giving him a shadow of a smile before looking away and sipping at his tea. Now that he's closer, Mo can smell the peppermint.

"What are you thinking about?" Mo asks. "I want to avoid thinking about anything that might make me make that face, so you should tell me so I don't—"

"Everyone here calls me Alex," Kerf cuts in softly.

There are things Mo could say, probably, and things he should say, but all he can do is blink for a moment. "And they didn't before," he finally says, words coming to him slowly. "In Colorado."

"It's not like I hate it," Kerf says, shrugging and taking another sip of his tea. "I mean, I've been Alex a lot in my life. It's fine as a nickname. It's just that I wasn't Alex, and now I just… am."

"Is that why," Mo starts, but he doesn't know how to ask, not really. He taps at his chest instead, right over his heart.

Kerf smiles as he glances down. "JT gave it to me when we were moving out of the house in Boulder," he says. "He's not half as much of a hardass as he makes people think he is. He knew I'd miss it there, miss him and Josty, so…"

Mo nods. "So he gave you something to help," he says. "Because he's a good friend."

"One of the best," Kerf says quietly. "Me and him and Josty, we're all—we were close."

"Hey, trades don't have to change that," Mo says firmly. "I text Gards, like, fifty times a day. I have his wife's Finsta so I don't miss baby photos."

Kerf laughs, and it's tired, a little strained. "But it's not the same."

"It's not," Mo agrees, because it's not, and he's not going to try to convince Kerf that it is. "But he's still my friend, and I'm still his."

Kerf nods and looks back out the window. He takes another sip of his tea, and then another, and Mo takes a deep breath and reaches out, tapping his fingers against Kerf's ankle and then letting them rest there. Kerf looks back at him, raising an eyebrow in question, and Mo smiles at him, small and quick.

"Alexander," he tries out, tapping at his ankle again. "If you want. If that's not just a Colorado thing."

"Morgan," Kerf says, smile returning, the real one that's kind of like the sun, and Mo's helpless to do anything but smile back at him. He's always done it, always used Mo's full name even when they were kids and people thought he was weird for doing it, and it's only right now that Mo's realising the full context of it, what names and nicknames and things like that mean here.

"Alexander," Mo says again, and it's the first time he really acknowledges it to himself, the little flip in his chest when it gets a laugh in response.

-0-

"Hey," Alexander says. He's standing in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove, and it smells _delicious_. "This is literally the only thing I can cook. Do you want some?"

"Yes," Mo says instantly, crossing the kitchen to look down into the frying pan. "What is it?"

"Curried cauliflower," Alexander says, poking at it. "Not to brag, but it's pretty good."

"If it tastes like it smells, you're making it all the time," Mo says, turning to get bowls from the cabinet. "And I'll accept the bragging without bitching about it even once."

Alexander laughs, and Mo smiles at the inside of the cabinet door before he shuts it and puts the bowls on the counter.

"Here," Alexander says, reaching for a bowl, and Mo watches as he scoops cauliflower into one bowl before handing it off to Mo and serving some for himself.

"You made some for me," Mo says, realisation dawning for him. "On purpose."

Alexander shrugs, turning the stove off and moving the empty pot to the sink. "If you didn't want it, then I'd have leftovers. Win-win."

"Hey," Mo says when Alexander turns back around.

"What?" Alexander asks, moving towards Mo, probably aiming for the silverware drawer, but—

Mo reaches out and catches his hand, and when Alexander turns to face him, Mo leans in and brushes a soft kiss against his lips. He kind of thought that his heart might be pounding, the few times he dared to think _what if I just kissed him_ , but he's calm, steady, as he pulls back and drops Alexander's hand.

"Morgan," Alexander says, and it's his name but it's more than that, the way the syllables tumble from Alexander's mouth, and when Mo leans back in, Alexander's already leaning in to meet him halfway.

When they break apart again, Mo's not at all surprised to find the smile on his face mirrored right back at him.

**Author's Note:**

> i WARNED you that it was soft! it's RIGHT there in the tags!!


End file.
